


monster in the making

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Deceit's name reveal, Emetophobia, Food, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Nightmares, Profanity, Self-Harm, Sexual innuendos, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Unsympathetic Light Sides (at first), dukeceit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Deceit and Remus are fed up with being seen as the bad guys. They have important and valuable contributions to make to Thomas’s life, too. When Remus has the idea to show the others what exactly Thomas’s life would be like without them, Deceit is more than happy to go along with it. With the reluctant aid of Remy, they craft one whopper of a nightmare, carefully tailored to each of the sides.But what happens when the others, panicked, go searching for them, Thomas in tow? Can Thomas travel the imagination unscathed, or will Deceit and Remus find themselves regretting their impulsive plan?
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 87
Kudos: 272
Collections: Storytime! 2020





	1. arguments

**Author's Note:**

> i was paired with the incredible crazygreatgamerperson for the ts-storytime's big bang 2020, and you can find the art they did [here](https://crazygreatgamerperson.tumblr.com/post/626632386855190528/its-august-so-once-again-is-time-for)
> 
> song lyrics are from "can't be erased" by jt machinima
> 
> also special thanks to [Treeni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treeni/pseuds/Treeni) and [TheLittleTrashCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleTrashCat/pseuds/TheLittleTrashCat) for beta-ing! ♡

_Just free yourself from reason  
_ _Soon you'll see in black and white_  
 _Call me a seed of evil but what's that mean  
_ _If I'm conceived within your mind?_

"I'm a Side, too!" Remus shouts, his face flushed and hands clenched at his sides, draped with lace. Deceit remains a quiet, steadying presence at his back, the only reason he hasn't summoned his morning star and made quick work of Morality's stupid, guileless face. _He_ isn't like Logic. _He_ wouldn't swivel back with shining teeth and blemish-free forehead.

_Crunching bones and squirting blood and gristle and dangling eyeballs by the thread of his ocular nerves-_

Remus drags his thoughts back, to the sound of Patton's shrill response.

"You're not good for Thomas!" Patton yells back, his own face starting to bloom with splotches of red. "Thomas needs to be _good_ and you're-" He waves a flustered hand at Remus, but Remus can fill in the blanks. After all, he's been filling them in for a long, long time.

And quite frankly, he's fed up with it.

"If I am awful, then so is Thomas," he hisses. "But I'm _not_ as awful as you want to pretend, or did we not just sit through the same lecture Logan gave? Thomas _needs_ us. _All_ of us. You aren't the most important Side!"

"Well, maybe I should be," Patton blusters. "Thomas is a good person, he doesn't need your contributions!"

"I never said he wasn't a good person," Remus snarls. "But I'm seriously starting to wonder about _you_."

And with that, he sinks out, Deceit in tow, before he says something he knows he's going to regret (or at the very least, that Dee will regret for him).

They land in a heap in the middle of the dark sides commons area. Remus is seething, his fingernails biting into his palms so hard, he knows he's drawn blood. He can't bring himself to care.

"Remus," Deceit says quietly, righting himself. "Your hands."

Remus unclenches his fists, wincing when he sees the crescent moon-shaped welts, a few oozing bright red droplets of blood. Without comment, Dee reaches under the sofa and pulls out the first aid kit (one of many scattered around their living quarters).

"It isn't worth it," Deceit murmurs, carefully cleaning his wounds. "Not to go against Patton like that. He won't listen, and the others will never listen to us if Morality is so outwardly against us."

"But he's wrong!" Remus exclaims. "We're still important! He isn't the- the be all and end all of necessary Sides! Thomas needs us all."

"I know," Deceit says, wrapping his hands in thin strips of gauze. Band-aids tend to peel off in minutes, as they've both learned. "Slow and steady wins the race, my love. Slow and steady."

"I hate slow and steady," Remus gripes. A faint, tired smile tugs at Deceit's mouth.

"I had no idea," he says, deadpan. "I know it's hard, Remus, but we can do this. We can't be trampled down forever."

"I know that," Remus says, jutting out his chin. " _Patton_ , on the other hand..." He trails off, frustration a thick sludge at the back of his throat, like he's swallowed a slick, poisonous cup of motor oil.

"There, your hands are done," Deceit says, giving each bandaged palm a quick, cool kiss. "Try not to get them too terribly messy?" Remus grins sloppily.

"You know I can't promise that-" he starts to say, just as the door to their commons area bangs open, revealing a flushed, angry Virgil.

"Did you lose your way?" Deceit asks, his tone icy. "It's _up_ the stairs for you."

"I heard you," Virgil says, scowling. "Yelling at Patton."

"Oh, did you hear the part where he was doing the same thing?" Deceit asks with bright, artificial interest. "Or are you just going to conveniently skim over that fact, in order to paint the two of us as villains in your carefully crafted narrative as always?"

"Just- You-" Virgil stops, the muscles of his jaw working. "Don't do that. Stay away from him."

"With pleasure," Deceit says, and his smile is thin and so sharply-edged that Virgil recoils, even as he turns to stomp back up the stairs, letting the door clatter shut behind him. Deceit sighs, and Remus can see his shoulders slump as soon as Virgil is gone.

"Nice," Remus says, in quiet appreciation. Deceit startles, as if he's forgotten that Remus is still there. That happens a lot, when Virgil is around. Or not, as the case may be.

"My apologies, Remus," Deceit says, and he sounds so weary, Remus starts his way, ready to catch him should he fall. "I'm fine," he says, answering Remus's unspoken query.

"No, you're not," Remus says softly. Deceit's mouth tips up in a genuine, albeit exhausted, smile.

"I will be," he says. "Right now, my focus is on Thomas. His mental health is swirling perilously close to down the drain, thanks to Morality and the others. I know that we can't be hasty, but at the same time..." He trails off, but Remus can fill in the blanks.

Thomas is teetering on the edge of a mental health crisis, and the way Remus sees it, only _all_ of them, working together, will be enough to help him.

If only the others believed that, too.


	2. are you okay?

_Is that your heart that's beating_   
_Or illusion you're alive?_   
_It's me you should be believing_   
_'Cause he's deceiving you with lies_

Virgil stomps back up the stairs, breathing heavily. Deceit's words prickle uncomfortably, echoing in his ears. The last trickle of righteous indignation slithers reluctantly down his spine. 

He can't really deny Deceit's words, that's the problem. Patton had been yelling. He might even have been the one who started it, Virgil wasn't quite sure. He'd ended up drawn to the living room by the sounds of their argument, and when he saw Patton's flushed cheeks and tear-damp eyes, well-

It was _easy_ to blame Remus and Deceit. They're the others. The 'Dark Sides,' as Roman so dramatically put it. _But you were one of them, too_ , his conscience reminds him, as he reaches the top of the stairs. _If you could be accepted, why not them?_

 _Because Patton says so_ does not feel like an acceptable argument.

Certainly Logan would disagree with it. He knows that much from the debate Logan dragged him into. (He refuses to admit he actually kind of enjoyed it.) Logan would want an actual answer, and Virgil doesn't have one.

Is it jealousy? He considers, as he begins to search the mind palace for Patton. Logan's seated at the kitchen table, cup of tea at his elbow and philosophy book spread out in front of him. He barely glances up when Virgil pops his head around the corner.

It could be, Virgil decides, slipping down the hallway toward Patton's room. If the others are accepted, then that means...what? What does it mean? Do they only have room in their hearts for one Dark Side? _Don't be ridiculous,_ he scolds himself, fidgeting at Patton's door after delivering a quick rap against the wood with his knuckles. _They accept me. It's different. I work with them, not against them._

Then again, can he really say that Deceit wants to work against Thomas's well-being? He's one part of self-preservation, after all. _Remus_ , perhaps, is a wild card, but isn't Creativity always that way? Certainly Roman in Daydream Mode is a force to be reckoned with, and not always for the better if he's honest with himself.

The door creaks halfway open, interrupting his reverie.

"Virgil!" Patton exclaims. His eyes are puffy and it's obvious that he's been crying, but he tries to put on a brave face for Virgil. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I heard earlier," Virgil says bluntly, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets. Patton pales, then hectic red flushes his cheeks.

"Virge, I'm sorry that you had to hear that-" Patton begins, but Virgil accidentally cuts him off.

"Are you okay?" Virgil asks quietly. Patton blinks, his red-rimmed eyes full of surprise at the question.

"Of course-" Patton starts to say, then sighs, his shoulders slumping. "I'm not sure," he admits. "If you heard, then I'm sure you know why- why I was arguing."

"I did," Virgil says, not elaborating. Patton sighs again, then steps back, welcoming Virgil into his room. Remembering his last adventure in Patton's den of nostalgia, Virgil hesitates, but steps through willingly enough, letting Patton lead him to his bed, piled high with soft blankets and stuffed animals.

"Do you think I'm wrong?" Patton blurts out. "That- that maybe I've misjudged them? Remus- well, he had a point." His cheeks flush sunset red.

"I don't know," Virgil admits, with a lopsided shrug. "The others- I don't know. I just want to protect Thomas. But is it possible to protect him from himself?" He grimaces. "I don't know."

"Logan told us that Remus wasn't to blame for Thomas's lack of sleep, it was our reaction to intrusive thoughts," Patton mumbles. "I don't- I never want Thomas to feel like he's a bad person for something he can't control. Logan's right, everyone has those kinds of thoughts. But they're just-" He pauses, turning anguished eyes on Virgil. "They're so _bad_. And Remus is the one who came up with them. So how can- well, how can _he_ not be bad?"

"He can't help it," Virgil mutters. His ears feel very hot and his neck prickles. He suddenly wishes he was anywhere but in Patton's room, reflecting on the past. On _his_ past.

"I know," Patton says, hearing him. "That's the problem. If he can't help it, is it really fair to call him bad? Or- or Deceit?"

"I don't know," Virgil says. He rubs a hand across the back of his neck. "Whatever. It's over now, right? For now?" Slowly, Patton nods. "Maybe you should, uh, focus on something else."

"Maybe you're right," Patton says. He musters up a wan smile. "Want to bake some cookies with me?"

"Sure," Virgil agrees, suddenly glad to get out of Patton's room, although it feels nothing like it did before. "Maybe we can get Logan to help, too, I saw him in the kitchen."

"I doubt it," Patton says. "But- Ooh, what if we made thumbprint cookies? With Crofters?"

"I think he'd be very jelly of our efforts," Virgil says, attempting a pun. Patton's answering giggle makes him feel warm from his toes to the top of his head.

"Sounds _grape_ to me!" Patton says. "Let's go!"

Virgil follows him out the door, studiously putting their previous topic of conversation out of his head. He doesn't even think to mention his brief altercation with Deceit and Remus.

It doesn't matter, anyway.


	3. plotting

_I'm the dancing demon  
_ _Watch me twirl and hop and spin_  
_I'm quick to give a smile  
_ _But I won't forget your sins_

"We could show them what it's like, you know."

Deceit raises an eyebrow in Remus's direction, surprised by the outburst. After Virgil's little temper tantrum, they waited to see if Remus's brother or the other two were going to attempt some white knighting on Patton's behalf (or if Patton wanted to continue arguing), but all remained quiet on that front, so the two settled in to watch Pixar movies until they fall asleep.

"What do you mean?" He asks, angling himself fully Remus's way.

"What it would be like if we weren't around," Remus says. "I've mentioned it before. _You_ know."

"Like ducking out?" Deceit attempts to clarify. "Because I don't think that would be a good idea, we aren't Virgil-" _No one would come find us_ is what he doesn't say.

"No, no." Remus flaps a dismissive hand in his direction. "Like a nightmare or something. A really _juicy_ one. We'd need Remy's help, but he could help us! He isn't like the others." A sneer crosses Remus's face. Deceit sits back, pondering it for a moment, while colorful fish ponder their dilemma on the TV screen.

"You have a point there," Deceit has to admit. "Remy has always proved to be more neutral in the past. There's no reason to think he wouldn't remain that way now."

"Hell, maybe he'd enjoy it," Remus says, bouncing in place. "Like- like being more creative! It's not just my job!"

"It isn't likely to give Thomas the sweetest of dreams so I rather doubt that, but perhaps," Deceit says dryly. Remus grins, and the shape of it is jagged and sharp.

"Put enough caffeine in him, I'm sure he'll like it!" Remus insists.

"Well, I'm on board regardless," Deceit says. "For you and for me." It feels rather like he's teetering on the edge of a cliff, darkness behind and the unknown in front of him. It's rather exciting, if he's _honest_ with himself (and oh, the exquisite burn of that honesty). "We must be _careful_ , though. We don't want to irrevocably scar Thomas or the others, after all."

"Maybe you don't," Remus says, unblinking. Deceit eyes him, raising an eyebrow, until he subsides. "All right, all right," he grumbles. "No permanent maiming. You take all the fun out of my carnage, Double D."

"There are much more _fun_ means of creativity and you know it," Deceit retorts. "Besides, Thomas's mental health is already delicate. We want to show them a world without the two of us, but we don't want to push Thomas over the edge at the same time. It's going to be tricky. Can you handle that?"

"Of course I can!" Remus says. He snorts. "I'm not _dumb_. It's not like I'm Morality."

"I know," Deceit soothes, giving Remus a conciliatory touch on the shoulder. "So- What exactly do we want in this nightmare?"

"There are so many possibilities," Remus says, eager. "How can we choose?"

"We'll have to come up with something, or Remy won't be able to help us," Deceit says dryly. "Hmm. I suppose one part of it could be what will happen if only Patton is in charge. If Thomas is _too_ selfless." He doesn't say that it feels like that's the trajectory Thomas's life path is taking anyway, and Remus doesn't remind him.

"How people will get bored with only Roman!" Remus contributes. "He's so _dull_."

"How Thomas won't be able to keep to a logical schedule, if he's driven to only help his friends and never take time out for himself," Deceit says. He adds, reluctant, "I suppose it should show the pair of us in distress in some way."

"We'll get to that," Remus assures him. "I've got some _great_ ideas for that." Eyes glowing, he continues to brainstorm out loud, Deceit interjecting every once in a while to smooth out the rough edges or point out where Remus has overstepped.

Qualms firmly pushed aside, Deceit discovers that he can't wait.

The others won't know what hit them.


	4. in the land of sleep

_The pen is mightier than the sword  
_ _It has no limitation_  
_Don't refrain, this ink will stain  
_ _And nothing can erase us now_

The next day dawns dull and foggy, filtering through from Thomas's conscious mind to the dark sides commons, but Deceit can't bring himself to care as he rouses, yawning hugely and trying to figure out where he is. Planning out the details of the carefully crafted nightmare that Remus will unleash on the unsuspecting light sides took hours, and he thinks the sun might have been peeking over the horizon by the time he went to sleep. Certainly he feels like it, lassitude dragging him back down into slumbering depths.

"Go back to sleep," Remus mumbles into his shoulder. The other side is wrapped around him, face buried in his shoulder, providing much appreciated warmth.

"What happened to our grand scheme?" Deceit asks in slightly tired amusement.

"It can go fuck itself," is Remus's prompt answer, and Deceit has to choke back a laugh. How is he supposed to argue with _that_?

"Remy will be around," Deceit coaxes. "You know that he usually takes a nap in the afternoon. You don't want to miss him, do you?"

"No," Remus grumbles. Deceit feels a bit like he's tricking him, but he knows it's only the plain, unvarnished truth. Remy is only available at odd hours and the closer one got to Thomas's sleep time, the less likely Remy would have time to discuss anything at all with you, much less something as important as their freshly hatched plan.

"Fine," Remus says, heaving himself up with a sigh. Deceit immediately misses his heat source. "Let's go."

Remus leads the way on this one, considering Remy's favorite haunts lie in the imagination and the subconscious. Deceit leans on his cane as they walk, fighting the urge to tug at his collar or smooth out his capelet one more time. They both dressed to impress, although he imagines the rows of baby teeth on Remus's shirt will horrify Remy more than impress him.

"So what exactly is your plan once we find him?" Deceit asks. Remus grins.

"Tell him what we wanna do," Remus says. "I don't think doing it your way is a good idea. Too-" He frowns, searching for the right word.

"Duplicitous," Deceit suggests. Remus nods brightly.

"Yeah, that," he says.

"Well, perhaps that will convince him," Deceit says thoughtfully. "That, and this." He concentrates and a brightly colored Starbucks drink, topped with a hefty load of whipped cream, falls into the hand not clutching his cane.

"I smell Starbucks," a familiar voice says out of thin air. Remy appears in front of them, looking at the two of them in surprise over his sunglasses. "What do I owe the honor to?"

"We have a proposition," Deceit says, as bluntly as he dares, as he hands over the Starbucks drink.

"I appreciate the bribe, babe, but that still depends on what it is," Remy informs him, taking a prolonged sip of his drink and sighing a little in appreciation.

"We're fed up," Remus says. "Of how the others treat us." He waves a frustrated hand, causing an enormous couch to sprout from the ground next to them.

"Take a seat?" Deceit suggests, as if the sofa is planned and not just as much of a surprise to Sleep and a wide-eyed Remus.

"So that's understandable," Remy says, lounging against the arm of the couch. "What does any of that have to do with me?"

"Remus has created a nightmare," Deceit explains. "In which the others would experience what would happen to Thomas if we ducked out."

"Ah," Remy says, taking another long, thoughtful sip. "Like a dress rehearsal."

"Kind of," Deceit agrees. "I- I can't duck out, not when I'm part of Thomas's self preservation. I won't let Remus duck out. But this- nothing else is working," he says in frustration. "And meanwhile, Thomas's mental health is growing worse and worse..."

"You're telling me," Remy says, making a face. "If I was able to actually talk to him, I'd be like damn, bitch, self care is a thing, you know."

"Exactly," Deceit says. "But Patton- I know he needs Morality. I know he listens to his heart. But right now, he's listening to his heart _too much_ , and it's hurting him. I don't know what happens when his reserves run out, but I don't want to find out."

"So you think this nightmare will fix it," Remy says.

"I think it's a start," Deceit says quietly. "I think if they could actually see what would happen, perhaps they will actually listen to our points in the future. I know that Logan isn't as affected by emotion; he, if no one else, should see the issue should Remus or I actually disappear."

"Also, I'm really fucking tired of being treated lower than a dead rat," Remus pipes up. He keeps playing with his fingers and the ruffles on his sleeves, tugging almost angrily at the sparkly fabric.

"I heard that argument between you and Pattycake," Remy admits. "Can't blame you. This could make it all worse, you know." He eyes Deceit and Remus over his sunglasses.

"I know," Deceit says.

"It's just a trick," Remy quotes, imitating Virgil's tired drawl. "To manipulate us. They're Dark Sides."

"I love it when he ignores his history," Deceit nearly purrs. Irritation flares, bright and hot, along his nerves. Remy shrugs, taking a contemplative swig of his Starbucks drink.

"It's true," he says. "They could take it the wrong way. They could say you're trying to hurt Thomas."

"Does that mean you won't do it?" Remus asks.

"Never said that," Remy points out. "Just wanted to know if you were prepared for the worst."

"I doubt that I will ever be prepared for that," Deceit murmurs. "But I understand the risks. I just-" His fingers spasm, making an abortive fist. "Thomas needs us. Both of us."

Remy studies them for a moment, thoughtful.

"I'll do it," he says. "But if it gets to be too much for Thomas, I'm cutting it short."

"Fine by me," Deceit says, almost giddy with relief.

"Okay!" Remus says. "But I hope you see it otherwise, I put a lot of work into it, it's really neat- Well, not neat because of what it's about to anyone else, but it's neat to me, and-"

"Got it," Remy says, sketching a little salute in the air. "Do you have it with you?"

Remus reaches carefully into one of his many pockets, extracting a glass orb that swirls with multi-hued smoke. It makes Deceit dizzy to look at for too long. Remy tucks it away in his jeans, solemn-looking.

"Tonight," Remy says. "If you want this to be realistic and all, maybe you should hang out in here? Cheapens the scare if you're just chilling in your room."

"Good point," Deceit says. "What do you think, Remus?"

"My side of the imagination," he says at once. "This is a little too close to my bro's. No offense."

"None taken," Remy says. "Your side tends to go haywire a little much for my tastes, krack-a-lacken."

"That is the _best_ nickname," Remus says eagerly. Deceit groans.

"So we hide out in the imagination until the others see the error of their ways?" Deceit says dryly. Remus tilts his head.

"You got a better idea?" He asks.


	5. a chat with roman

_Let's create a masterpiece  
_ _Breathe life into your dreams_  
_All you gotta do  
_ _Is start up the machine_

The nightmare orb pulls down the side of Remy's jeans as he saunters along the path, the still figures of Deceit and Remus receding into the distance. He feels like the epitome of the _don't be suspicious_ meme. The chance that he will run into anyone at all, much less Roman, is slim to none, but that doesn't make it zero. Roman would never understand what he's agreed to do. While Roman can't stop Remy in the pursuit of his duties, that doesn't mean he can't warn the others and prejudice them against what Remus and Deceit are trying to do.

He can't blame them for wanting to be accepted. Acknowledged. Hell, even just someone admitting that they _are_ important for Thomas's continued health and well being. He's pretty set himself- after all, no matter how much Thomas stays up, sooner or later, sleep will catch him- but Deceit? _Remus_? No.

He passes by some of Roman's constructs, tossing them a casual wave like he always does. Like it's any other day. Remy has to fight the urge to glance back over his shoulder. They won't be there anymore. Remus wanted to take them deeper into his side of the Imagination to conceal them better, and he thinks that a good idea. Remus sticks out like a pustulent thumb, anywhere near Roman's side of the Imagination. After the argument between Patton and Remus, Roman will be particularly on edge around his brother.

"Remy!"

Remy stifles a wince when he hears Roman's boisterous voice behind him. _Just another day_ , he reminds himself, trying to ignore the nightmare orb. It feels like it's burning a hole in his pocket, though a surreptitious check confirms it isn't. (You can never be too careful with Remus's creations.)

"Sup, bitch," Remy greets Roman easily, sipping on another Starbucks drink.

"You haven't seen my bro around, have you?" Roman asks. Remy takes another sip, stalling.

"Why?" He asks. Roman looks discomfited.

"There uh- I don't know if you heard it yesterday-" Roman stumbles through explaining, until Remy finally decides to take pity on him.

"Think the whole mindscape heard Pattycake arguing with Remus, babe," he says. "If that's what you're referring to."

"It is," Roman confirms, in abashed gratitude. "I just- He's so, so _Remus_ ," he splutters. "Has he been here?"

"Haven't seen him," Remy cheerfully lies through his teeth. "He doesn't usually come over here, does he?"

"Only to wreak havoc," Roman says sourly. "Thank you, Remy. That is one rather heavy weight lifted!"

"No prob," Remy says, feeling only the tiniest needle of guilt. _It isn't like Remus is going to come back_ , he argues with himself. _He's staying in his side of the Imagination with Deceit_. The nightmare orb seems to double in weight, his own dirty little secret given swirling form.

Roman claps him on the back, nearly startling him into dropping his drink, and babbling a string of apologies as he sets Remy upright.

"It's fine, babe, don't worry," Remy finally says, afraid that Roman's over-zealous hands will brush over his jeans pocket and wonder at the unusually hefty weight packed inside. "Catch you later?"

"Of course!" Roman says. Remy only breathes easier when Roman is nothing but a speck in the distance.

_That was harder than I expected_ , he thinks, swallowing and taking another deep swig of his drink. After the anxiety that spiked through his stomach, he needs all the caffeine he can get.

The Dream Factory that Remy spends most of his working hours in looms in front of him before he's ready to face it. He pitches his empty Starbucks cup in a conveniently placed trash can and starts to climb the winding spiral staircase up to the very top, where he mixes together dreams. Usually, he would chuck one of Roman's dreams into the pot. A cute dream about a gorgeous prince, or maybe even a blood-pumping dream about a remarkably bloodless zombie apocalypse. Remy loves to put his own spin on Roman's creations, loves how they work together. He's hardly ever worked with Roman's brother before.

But he's going to now.

Thomas isn't asleep yet. But that doesn't matter for Remy's work here. This will remain, like a loaded chamber, waiting for Thomas's eyelids to finally droop shut, for his mind to shut off. The others will fall asleep, too; he's sure Remus has thought of that. They need to be dreaming for his plan to work.

He pulls the nightmarish orb free. Red and blue and purple swirl across the mist, with unsettling eddies of green and yellow muddying together.

"Sure hope this works, babes," Remy mumbles, and drops it into the dream cauldron with the tiniest splash.


	6. waiting for the curtain call

_Despite this mask of happiness  
_ _I drown in dark despair_  
_The world may be your canvas  
_ _What you paint on it, beware_

Remus can't stop bouncing on his tiptoes as he and Deceit scout for the most stable place in his side of the Imagination to set up shop for the night and possibly foreseeable future. Despite how wickedly foreboding his jagged spire of castle is, looming against a bruised sky, he decides against it. It's too easy and if there's one thing Remus loves, it's a challenge.

"I hope you aren't planning on going too much farther," Deceit murmurs, leaning heavily on his cane. Guilt pricks Remus as he looks down at his boyfriend, whose scales are paler than they should be and eyes dull.

"Too much?" Remus asks. Deceit nods, weary.

"My apologies," he says, staggering and catching himself on his cane. "I'm not having a particularly _balanced_ day, apparently."

"We'll stop soon then," Remus promises. "If I remember correctly, there's a cool cave somewhere around here. I can fancy it up for you, even better than my brother could! Living in the lap of luxury, my good bitch."

"You sound like Remy," Deceit points out. He sounds amused.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Remus asks. Deceit contemplates for a moment.

"Not particularly," he finally says. "But I prefer when you sound like you."

"Juicy buttholes!" Remus exclaims, at the top of his voice, and Deceit groans, putting his free hand over his eyes.

"I know that that isn't _all_ you sound like, I live with you," Deceit says dryly.

"I know, but it's so fun to talk about buttholes!" Remus says. He surveys their surroundings, squinting at the varihued foliage around them. "There!" He says, pointing at an indent in a cliff face. "There's the cave."

"Good," Deceit says, his shoulders sagging in relief.

The cave is enormous, with a craggy, arching ceiling. Blood oozes down the back walls until Remus snaps his fingers, removing it. With a few more snaps and some concentration, he's set up a few couches, a working refrigerator, a bathroom cubicle with a working shower, and a bed.

"How long do you think we're going to be here?" Deceit questions, with an amused arch of one eyebrow. Remus shrugs.

"Dunno," he says. "But aren't you always talking about being prepared?" He snaps his fingers again, adding a television set.

"Yes," Deceit admits.

"I kinda wanna stay here until the others freak out," Remus says, flopping down on the nearest couch, his head dangling off the end. "I want my bro- I want them to _worry_."

Deceit looks like he wants to say something but stops himself, as he settles himself neatly on the couch next to Remus, setting his cane to one side.

"Also, we have to stay awake," Remus mentions, off-hand. Deceit's face wrinkles in confusion.

"Why?" He asks.

"Because otherwise we're probably going to get swept up in that nightmare," Remus says matter-of-factly. Deceit goes very pale.

"You didn't mention that!" He snaps. Remus flushes.

"I didn't think about it," he mumbles. "I just wanted them to feel what it's like, being treated like shit, what it would be like for Thomas if we weren't there. I kinda...forgot about the rest."

"So what happens if we fall asleep? We actually _do_ end up in the subconscious or fading away?!" Deceit exclaims in alarm. Remus shakes his head so hard, it feels like it's about to fall off.

"No, no, nothing like that," he assures his boyfriend. "But um... Any bad stuff will probably feel like it's happening to us."

"Great," Deceit says dully. "If I fall asleep, I'm going to dream about someone stitching my mouth shut. That's fantastic."

"I'm sorry," Remus whispers. His face is so red, it's painful. Even out to his ears. He wonders briefly if he could blush so hard, his ears fall off. Probably not. "I really am _really_ sorry, Double D."

"I know you are," Deceit says, and sighs. "All right, how long is this nightmare supposed to be?"

"A couple hours," Remus reminds him. "Tops."

"We can stay awake that long," Deceit says hopefully.

Privately, Remus doubts it. Remy is _good_ at what he does. The nightmare isn't specifically directed toward them to fall asleep, not like it is the others, but it doesn't mean Remy's influence won't take over anyway. And by now, it's too late to try and find Remy to ask that he deliberately avoid Deceit and Remus.

_Maybe it will be good for the cause_ , he thinks, as Deceit puts on a snake documentary and the two settle in to watch it. _Us suffering, too. Like the dream's because of Thomas or something._

But he kind of _wants_ credit. At least eventually, maybe not right after, when everyone's nerves are rawer than a chewed up steak.

_We'll figure it out later_ , Remus decides, winding his tentacles around Deceit and tugging him closer on the couch. Deceit laughs, and the sound makes all thoughts of the impending nightmare flee.

Until, with a loud rumble, a large, irregular rock trundles its way across the entrance of the cave, sealing them inside.

One that Remus decidedly did _not_ tell to do that.


	7. overworked

_Why did I come, let me go home  
_ _I should be leaving_  
_Whatever happened, don't wanna know  
_ _What are these demons?_

Logan stifles a yawn behind one hand, irritation licking along his veins before he ruthlessly stifles it. He has work to do, but Remy has apparently decided that his work is secondary to them _all_ getting some sleep with Thomas now.

_Practice what you preach_ , Logan reminds himself, as he forces himself to stand and collapse into bed. He barely has enough time to drag the covers over himself and kick off his shoes, before sleep claims him like a riptide, dragging him out to that illusionary far shore. His glasses poke against him, but he's oblivious, sinking deeper and deeper into a dream.

He blinks. When he opens his eyes again, he's standing in the middle of Thomas's living room. Thomas is crumpled on the sofa, a shadow of his former self. His hair sticks out in unruly, tangled spikes, and the shadows under his eyes are so dark, he resembles Virgil at his worst.

"What's going on here?" Logan attempts to cry out in alarm. Instead, his tongue refuses to work and the words die, trapped, in the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry, Patton," Thomas husks out. "There's just not enough hours in a day-"

"Now, Thomas," Patton scolds, emerging from the shadows. His eyes are so bright, they nearly glow. They also exude a deep malevolence that sends a cold shudder down Logan's spine. "You want to help your friends, don't you? You don't want to disappoint them, do you?"

"No," Thomas says. His voice is a thread, and one that Logan desperately wants to re-knit into its former glory. He still can't move. _Where are the others?_ He wonders in horror. Even as he does, Roman staggers into focus. His sash is faded, so much so it could nearly be mistaken for pink, and all of his hair stands on end. His outfit is stained with red ink that reminds Logan ominously of blood.

"I'm sorry, Thomas," Roman whispers. "I can't-"

"Sure you can, buddy," Patton says, exuding grisly good cheer. Logan recoils. "Come on, Ro, you don't want to disappoint Thomas, do you? He needs you!"

"I know that," Roman snaps, but his voice wilts at the end.

_Where's Deceit?_ Logan wonders, glancing wildly around, hoping for any hint of yellow. Deceit is more than Thomas's deception, after all, he plays a hefty role in Thomas's self preservation. If anyone could use a bit of self preservation right now, it has to be Thomas, doesn't it?

Nothing. Not even a hint of Virgil's purple hoodie, which right about now, he'd gladly take. Even Remus would be preferably to the ghastly scene in front of him.

It lurches, sending him spiraling, until he thumps down at his desk, looking down at a planner wildly over-booked. Friend outings are scribbled in the margins, and video ideas crowd each line. Logan frowns, his mouth trembling in exhaustion, even as he watches his own hand working, scribbling down more and more.

"You can do it, Lo!" Patton cheers behind him. He turns his head, hearing his neck creak, to see the ghastly version of Patton is back, eyes bright behind his square-framed glasses. "I know it's been tough, but Thomas needs you! Needs all of us!" His mouth draws down in a trembling frown. "Well, almost all of us."

"What do you mean?" Logan asks, surprised he can speak. Patton raises an eyebrow.

"The others," he says, as if he's talking about the weather. " _Deceit_. And Remus. We don't need them anymore."

_Yes, we do_ \- Logan thinks, but the words don't make it past his suddenly clamped shut mouth.

"I'll leave you to it," Patton says sweetly, ignoring the storm of conflicted emotion crossing Logan's face. "Call me if you need me!" He skips out the door before Logan can say a word, and he finds himself drowning in Thomas's planner again, words and times swimming past exhausted eyes, as Thomas works and works and works, no hint of break in sight-

_I really wish Deceit was here right now,_ Logan thinks raggedly, shocked at the revelation. _Patton, what did you do?_

Nothing answers.


	8. welcome to the panic room

_Don't refrain, this ink will stain  
_ _And nothing can erase us now_  
_Can you describe the face you saw?  
_ _Could it be one you recognize?_

Virgil huddles under his weighted blanket, enormous headphones jammed over his ears, as exhaustion batters him, a relentless tide. It's so strong, he can't help but slump over, eyes drifting shut. Alarm flutters bat wings at the back of his mind, at just how strong the urge to sleep is, but he can't control it, any more than he can fly.

When he opens his eyes again, weak sun filters through the window, in lemon splotches across his bed. He feels exhausted, like he hasn't slept in approximately a month. _Am I dreaming?_ He wonders, dazed. He gets up, slipping out the door in socked feet. Thomas's anxiety batters him like the waves in a turbulent sea, listing him to one side.

He hears them before he sees them. Patton, Roman, and Logan, all talking in low voices in the kitchen. He brightens at the thought of talking to them- maybe Logan will be able to help him get this anxiety under control- but he skids to a stop when he hears Patton's next words.

"I just don't think he's fitting in-" come Patton's distressed words.

"Are you sure, Padre?" Roman asks, clearly confused. "You've always been the one who pushed for Virgil's inclusion."

"I think I made a mistake," Patton confesses. Virgil's heart drops to the vicinity of his feet and tears start to prickle his eyes. His breathing speeds up and he presses a hand over his mouth, desperately trying to quiet himself.

"I mean, look at Thomas!" Patton continues. "He's an anxious _wreck_ , Virgil isn't helping him at all!"

"Perhaps Virgil is struggling," Logan comments. "He may require assistance."

"This wasn't a problem when he was...you know," Patton says, his voice hushed. "With _them_."

"But he belongs here," Roman argues. "He can work _with_ us, not against us. We had a whole arc dedicated to this, remember?"

"Well, things change, Roman!" Patton snaps, his voice raising a little. "You don't understand. You aren't the one trying to calm Thomas down, day in and day out. He's anxious and because he's anxious, he can't fulfill his commitments to his friends! They're going to get mad at him and it will be all Virgil's fault!"

"Don't you think you're being unfair-" Logan starts to say, but Virgil's heard more than enough. He wants to vomit all over the carpet, wants to cry until he has no more tears left, wants to hide in his room and never come out again. He tries to turn, intending to do just that, but his traitorous feet carry him forward, into the kitchen.

"Kiddo!" Patton exclaims. He looks guilty. "I didn't know you were awake."

"I heard you," Virgil says bluntly. Patton pales, then straightens himself, fiddling with the tied sleeves of the cardigan strewn round his shoulders.

"Well, kiddo, then you know that er-" Patton fumbles to a stop.

"You've been lying this whole time?" Virgil fills in, his tone acid. Patton winces. "I have anxiety, too, you know. I experience it all _with_ Thomas, I've been doing my damnedest to keep it away from him, but it's not _working_ , and that's not my fault!"

"Then whose fault is it, Anxiety?" Patton drops the fatherly facade, staring at him with gimlet hard eyes.

"Where's Deceit?" Virgil asks instead, praying to see just a hint of yellow.

"He won't be bothering us anymore," Patton says, with a haughty sniff.

"He's part of self preservation, what have you done?" Virgil asks, appalled. His hands are icy cold, and his ears buzz, filled with static. Logan and Roman look equally shocked. Logan spills coffee over the plain wood of the table, seemingly unaware.

"He's _Deception_ ," Patton corrects, with a sneer. "We don't need him, and we never have. Thomas doesn't need him. Or Remus."

"What have you done with my brother?" Roman asks in a weak voice.

"Saved you," Patton insists. "You don't need him, Roman. You're creative enough for Thomas."

"But I- I can't-" Roman stammers. Patton shakes his head, impatient.

"Go back to the dark side, Anxiety," Patton orders. "Stop impacting Thomas or-"

"Or what?" Virgil challenges. He feels on the razor sharp edge of hysteria. "Or you'll do to me what you did to Deceit and Remus? And you call yourself _Morality_?" A disbelieving laugh tears free, harsh with tears. "If anyone's moral, it sure as hell isn't you! You've appointed yourself judge and jury over every thought Thomas has! I always thought Thomas was a good person, but with _you_ in charge of his heart, I don't know that I believe that anymore!" He stops, his chest heaving. Patton's staring at him like he's been struck.

Before Patton can say anything else, Virgil spins on his heel, dashing down the hallway toward the dark side. He tears the door open and clatters down the stairs, making so much noise, he half expects someone to come out and chastise him for it. But- nothing. No one comes, not even when he rips open the door to the commons and stumbles his way in. Everything is covered in dust and cobwebs, like no one's been there for a very long time.

"Deceit?" He calls, his heart pounding in his throat. "Remus?"

No one answers him.


	9. creator's block

_Shamed and defaced  
_ _Scathed and disgraced  
_ _Tainted by hatred  
_ _And can't be erased_

Roman rubs his forehead, frowning at the crumpled page in front of him. The words blur, and he can feel fatigue like a shroud, creeping up upon him. Remy had made no mention of putting _him_ to sleep when he'd seen him in the Imagination- then again, perhaps Remy was too busy focusing on the potential threat of his brother interfering.

Still-

 _Damn it_ , Roman thinks, a yawn escaping him. He's too _busy_ to sleep! Thomas needs this to be done, and done soon. If not, their whole schedule will be thrown off, and then he'll have to deal with Logan's petulance.

But Remy won't be denied that easily and with a put-upon sigh, Roman pushes away from his desk and snaps himself into his pajamas, climbing between the sheets of his enormous four-poster bed. Perhaps a good night's sleep will put everything into perspective and this won't end up being a problem, after all.

He opens his eyes to a scene of devastation. Crumpled hunks of paper lie everywhere, and the carpet is stained with blue, black, and red ink. The red looks like blood spatters, and Roman winces. When he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he cringes back, shocked to see how exhausted he looks. His hair sticks up in ragged clumps and dark shadows are burnt beneath his eyes. It looks like he's taken a swipe of Virgil's eye shadow palette and gone crazy.

"Roman!" Patton trills, skipping through the half-open door. "How's it going?"

"Not good, padre," Roman admits hoarsely. Patton tsks under his breath, hauling Roman to his feet with a surprisingly strong arm and towing him out the door, paying no attention to his protests. "It's time for our meeting, silly," Patton explains.

"Where's Virgil?" Roman asks as they near the living room, confused. Patton's eyes cloud over.

"Anxiety won't be joining us," he says coolly. Roman stops still in shock, his eyes wide.

"What do you mean, Anxiety?" He questions. "His name is _Virgil_."

"He's upsetting Thomas," Patton says, his voice glacial. "It's for the best, Roman."

Thomas does look a nervous wreck, Roman is forced to acknowledge as they enter the room. Then again, so do he and Logan. Patton's the only one who looks normal, practically glowing with vitality. It's enough to give Roman the creeps and by the sidelong glance Logan gives him, he's not the only one to notice it.

"I'm afraid you're all disappointing Thomas," Patton says, with a very put-upon frown. "Roman, he needs your creative input."

"I'm sorry," Roman stammers. "It's just not- not working, I need-" He stops short before saying Remus's name. If Patton has cast aside _Virgil_ of all people, his own 'dark strange son,' then there's no telling how he'll react to the mention of Roman's brother.

"You can do it," Patton chirps. His eyes look like twin chips of ice. "I believe in you, Ro!"

 _But not Virgil?_ Roman thinks, but doesn't say. He can't believe that he, of all people, wants to stick up for the anxious side, but if there's anything he's learned after Virgil tried ducking out, it's how much Virgil is willing to work with the group, to benefit Thomas and the others. Patton was always on board with that.

Wasn't he?

"Patton," Thomas says weakly. "I need a break-"

"You don't want to disappoint your friends, do you?" Patton asks, tilting his head to one side. "Thomas, Joan is counting on you!"

"Last time I saw them, they said I looked exhausted," Thomas says. "They told me I should take a break-"

"You don't mean that," Patton says, shaking his head. "You must have misunderstood. Thomas, they _need_ you. You're their _friend_."

"Friends want each other to be healthy," Roman speaks up before he can stop himself. "Patton, this- this isn't healthy."

"Really?" Patton says, disbelieving. "Roman, I never- You sound like _Remus_." Roman flinches, as if he's been slapped across the face. A glint of smug amusement shines in Patton's eyes as he turns back to Thomas. Shaken, Roman tunes out of the rest of the argument, his despairing eyes meeting Logan's resigned gaze.

What were they supposed to do?


	10. what have you done?

_I'm blinded by this evil growing  
_ _My heart is full of people-loathing_  
_With secrets that I keep from showing  
_ _I am the wolf in sheepish clothing_

Patton yawns, crawling into bed. The misty haze of nostalgia cradles him as he curls up around his favorite teddy bear. Yesterday's argument with Remus pricks his conscience, but he ignores it. He can talk to Remus later. Maybe Virgil was right. He supposes at least he should try to get along with everyone in Thomas's head, if only for Thomas. He yawns again, his eyes drifting shut, as the world shifts around him, hazy with sleep.

Patton walks down the corridor toward Deceit's room, his footfalls heavy and full of righteous purpose. He's had enough of the duplicitous dealings of a wolf in sheep's clothing. Him, and Remus, the broken, cast off remnants of Thomas's creativity. Roman is more than enough for Thomas's creative works, and it's time the rest of them acknowledge that.

He can't get rid of them, not entirely, but he knows how to diminish their purpose. He raps on Deceit's door, his knuckles bruising the wood. After a long moment, it swings open, the hinges creaking.

The inside of Deceit's room is as dark and gloomy as he expected, nothing like the welcoming cheerfulness of his own room. The snake himself is seated at a desk, elaborately plumed quill in one gloved hand.

"Morality," the snake-like side says in surprise, turning toward him. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"You're bad for Thomas," Patton says simply. "And now you aren't going to be." Deceit's eyes narrow in confusion, but Patton snaps his fingers, revealing the silver glint of a needle and thread, hovering in mid air. Now Deceit pales in horror, but Patton pays no attention, stepping forward with slow, measured steps, the needle and thread pacing him.

"You can't lie if you can't speak," he says. The words echo in the sudden stillness. Deceit stumbles back, his chair clattering to the floor, but Patton keeps gliding closer, the needle and thread an ever-present reminder.

Patton stops once Deceit is pressed against the dingy wall. He looks oddly shrunken. Patton lifts one hand, the needle quivering like an eager dog.

"I wouldn't try to stop it," Patton advises calmly. "You'll only make it harder on yourself." The needle and thread hurdle forward, pausing briefly. Just long enough to give Deceit hope.

Patton dashes that, letting his fist fall to his side. The needle darts forward, sliding down through Deceit's mouth, bringing forth a quiet trickle of startlingly red blood. Deceit _keens_ , a high-pitched shriek that drills into Patton's ears, making him want to clap his hands over them. Inside, he wants to scream himself, he wants to rip the needle away, wants to-

Wants to-

The needle moves on, inexorable, slowly dragging bloodied thread through the holes. Deceit's screams become more and more muffled, the more blood paints his chin gruesome dark red. Patton stands and watches it all, a pleasant smile floating about his lips. It makes him want to cry. _No, stop, I don't want to-_

The door behind him bangs open and he whirls to see Remus, morningstar in one hand.

"What the fuck are you doing to Dee?" He shrills. Patton raises one hand, his eyes glowing, and heavy shackles appear, nearly slamming his arm back down with their weight.

"What should have been done a long time ago," he says calmly. Behind him, he can hear Deceit's choked moans as the needle continues. He clicks his fingers, and the shackles wind their way around Remus, forcing him abruptly to his knees. "You two are bad for Thomas," he continues. Every syllable makes him feel like screaming more, screaming until his throat is as raw as Deceit's. "Now you won't be able to influence him." He steps around Remus, just in time for the door to abruptly sag open and the others to crowd in. Virgil lets out a low moan of horror when he sees Deceit's bloodied mouth, stitched shut with crooked scrawls of thread.

"Patton, what have you done?" Logan asks, his voice hushed, like they've invaded the sanctity of a cathedral instead of a snake's den.

"What had to be done," Patton says, drawing himself up to his full height. "They're bad for Thomas-"

"They don't deserve _that_!" Roman bursts out. He looks sickened. "What- what kind of _monster_ would- would-"

 _Monster_ echoes in the room around him, eddying and swirling at dizzying speed. The world starts to tear and tatter around him, and Patton instinctively squeezes his eyes as tightly shut as he can make them.

When he opens them again, he's in his bedroom. His pajamas are soaked through with sweat, and he's clutching his teddy bear like a lifeline.

"Just a dream," he whispers, then a surge of nausea swells in his throat, and he has to scramble off the bed, dashing for his attached bathroom and scrabbling open the toilet lid before what feels like everything he's ever eaten spews up his throat. He heaves and heaves, his stomach cramping and his throat hurting, before it feels like everything that could be emptied has been. Flushing away the evidence, Patton manages to stand.

He can see Deceit in the mirror.

Whirling, he sees nothing but the familiar soft blue of the bathroom wall. He looks again and recoils in horror, one trembling hand coming up and pressing tight against his mouth.

It's not just Deceit. It's Deceit with bloodied stitches and accusing, wounded eyes, it's Deceit with red, red blood rolling down his chin and messy stitches pulling his lips closed, it's Deceit-

His fist smashes the mirror before he knows what he's doing. He stares dumbly at the blood oozing down his knuckles, then his gaze unwillingly lifts, staring into the splintered shards of mirror still stuck in their frame.

Deceit's eyes accuse him from every angle. Remus joins him, hanging limply in his chains, like some kind of macabre puppet. Patton _screams_ , then punches the mirror again and again, uncaring as thin splinters of glass work their way into his skin, grinding against each other in an exquisite blaze of agony. He screams and screams, the way Deceit must have wanted to, the way he _couldn't_ , and all the while his hand smashes into the shattered mirror, unwilling to bear the accusatory glares of his victims any longer-

"Patton- _Patton_!-" Overlapping voices, jumbled together, assault his ears, and an arm with a grip like steel pulls him away, preventing him from assaulting the broken mirror once more. He can't stop breathing heavy, can't stop the shudder of his breath, as purple and blue and red fill his vision, once so comforting, now only a cold reminder of what he had done in his dream. _Monster_ echoes in his ears, and tears drip down his scalding hot cheeks.

"Can you hear me?"

Finally, Patton can focus. He's surrounded by Virgil, Logan, and Roman, like he thought. Roman's holding his arm out, while Logan uses tweezers to carefully pry each and every splinter of mirror out of his mutilated hand. He watches in mute, queasy fascination. Mutilated is right. His knuckles look _pulped_ , and red streaks down his hand and arm in broad, tacky strokes.

"Patton, can I ask you what happened?" Logan asks carefully. He never pauses for a moment in his work.

"I- I-" The words stick in his throat, jumbling together and piling up beneath the blockage of his tongue and teeth. "I'm a _monster_ ," he blurts out, and to his horror and shame, fresh tears slide down raw cheeks.

"Why do you say that, pop star?" Virgil asks softly. He looks rattled, but Patton isn't sure why. Is it because of him? He must look like such a mess.

"I- It was a dream," he stammers. "I- I- oh _god_ , I-" He closes his eyes, pressing his lips tightly together to stem the fresh burst of nausea.

"Deceit and Remus were- were in it," he manages to mumble. "And I- I-"

"It's okay," Roman says soothingly, rubbing comforting circles around Patton's elbow. "Take your time, Pat."

"I told Deceit I would- would make him stop lying," Patton chokes out. "With- with-" He swallows hard. "I stitched his mouth shut," he manages to force out, his whole body quivering as if he's been caught in a gale force wind. Virgil has to hold him steady so he doesn't collapse to the floor and undo Logan's hard work.

"I know," Virgil whispers.


	11. the cave isn't an allegory

_I really need help, someone send a telegram  
_ _I'm surrounded by upside-down pentagrams  
_ _I don't have a guide  
_ _Just a little bit of candlelight_

"Remus, _why_ did that happen?!" Deceit squeaks out, anxiety suddenly prickling his shoulders and sending a shiver down his spine, like someone had poured ice down his back. "Please tell me you didn't do that to be dramatic. On second thought, _do_ tell me that, because I don't want to think about the alternative-"

"Unfortunately, Double D, I can't tell you I did it," Remus says, with a nervous shrug. "Maybe Remy did it?" But the nervous look they exchange knows that he didn't. Remy wouldn't venture this far into Remus's territory in the first place, much less initiate such a shitty prank as locking them into a cave.

"I mean, I guess it doesn't have to be a bad thing, right?" Deceit asks, picking at his gloves. "Adds to the drama and all that."

"Yeah," Remus says, his tentacles giving Deceit a brisk massage. "We'll go with that."

"Maybe- maybe we should go see if we can move it?" Deceit suggests. Remus bounces to his feet and gives himself a running start, slamming against the rock. It barely moves.

" _Fuck_ , that hurt," Remus exclaims.

"All right, don't do that again," Deceit says, his forehead scrunched in worry. "Come back here." Remus trails back obediently, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Can you snap it away?" Deceit asks. Remus shakes his head.

"It's like it's not part of the Imagination, but at the same time, it is?" He says, tentative. "I- shit, maybe it _is_ to do with the nightmare. I don't think I wrapped up the loose ends very well. I was too excited for Remy to actually implement it."

"Great," Deceit says in weary resignation. "That's... Fuck." Remus hangs his head, fiddling with the ruffles on his sleeves.

"I'm sorry, Dee Dee," Remus mumbles. "I didn't- I never meant _this-_ "

"I know you didn't," Deceit assures him. "I'm not angry at _you_ , Remus. I'm angry at the situation."

"Big mood," Remus says, slumping against Deceit. "I guess we're stuck then."

"We can get through this," Deceit says, determined. "We just can't fall asleep." As if it was merely waiting to be given form, exhaustion crashes over him like a tsunami, deluging him in tiredness. Deceit yawns hugely, before his eyes widen in horror.

"Easier said than done," Remus says weakly, his own jaw cracking from the intensity of his yawn.

"Well, we're fucked," Deceit says. Another yawn overtakes him and he finds himself flopping over against Remus, his arms blindly snaking around his boyfriend and drawing comfort from the warmth of his body.

In minutes, they're both sound asleep.


	12. a downward spiral

_The machine is thumping  
_ _And the ink is pumping  
_ _Now, you need to run  
_ _Because the Demon's coming_

"What do you mean, you know?" Patton cries. Bitter cold overtakes him, swiftly followed by vicious heat. His ears ring, filled with static. His hands shake, skin gone taut by gauze. Virgil leans in closer, and now Patton can see that he's trembling.

"I think we- we shared the same dream," Virgil says hoarsely.

"The same nightmare, you mean," Roman says, running a hand through sleep-tousled hair. "That was no ordinary dream!"

"I- I can't believe I-" Patton stammers. The image of Deceit, mouth stitched shut, seems to linger on his retinas, stamped into his memory. Remus, dangling in chains, joins him. For a brief, dizzying moment, Patton wonders if plucking out his own eyes would help.

"It was a nightmare, padre," Roman says, although he notices a certain stiffness about Roman's manner that makes him feel sick inside. "You didn't do it."

"But what if Thomas's brain thinks I _would_?" Patton bursts out. "What if _Thomas_ thinks that I would? What- what would he think of me if he-" Realization bursts across Patton's conscience like a rotten tomato. "He must have dreamed it, too," he breathes. "Oh god, he dreamed it, too, it's his brain, he saw- saw me-" His breathing comes faster and faster, like an onslaught of soap bubbles, until his vision starts to darken around the edges.

"Patton, breathe with me," Virgil directs, pitched just loud enough that it slices through the static. "Breathe in for four seconds." He holds up four fingers in front of Patton's face, slowly counting down. "Now hold for seven seconds," Virgil says, again holding up his fingers to count down. Patton fixates on the slender digits with single-minded intensity, his breathing rough and shaky but noticeably slowing down, and by the time Virgil counts exhaling for eight seconds, Patton feels a little bit calmer.

"Better?" Virgil asks. Patton nods weakly, fidgeting with the gauze taped around his hand. His skin stings and burns, and he welcomes it. It's all he deserves after what he did.

"Good," Logan chimes in. "I believe it would be a good idea to check on Thomas and see how he is coping with the effects of that nightmare."

"What about-" Patton's words jumble to a stop, trapped behind his teeth. _What about Deceit and Remus?_

"We will check on them, too," Logan says calmly. "I'm sure they're fine, Patton. We'll check their rooms, all right?"

"O-okay," Patton whispers, stumbling over the affirmative.

The walk down to the dark side commons is a quiet one. Patton is too wreathed in his own guilt to speak. He doesn't know what's wrong with the others, but all he can imagine is something to do with the dream. The nightmare. _It's all my fault_ , he thinks, and wants to throw up.

Virgil pales when they enter the living room and no one's to be seen. His eyes dart everywhere, until he relaxes a little.

"No dust," he mumbles. Patton doesn't understand. He's afraid to.

"Where are their rooms?" Logan asks. Virgil brushes past, skittering down the hall. A door bangs open, then another, and Patton hears nothing but Virgil's desperate, harsh breaths.

"I can't find them," Virgil gasps out, wheezing. His eyes are bright with barely suppressed panic. "They- they aren't in their rooms, I-"

"Did you see any sign of them?" Logan cuts in, tapping out a familiar rhythm on the back of Virgil's hand. Virgil shakes his head, fringe flopping into his eyes.

"N-nothing," Virgil stammers. "You- you don't think-"

"I'm sure they're fine wherever they are," Logan reassures him. "We will find them."

"Maybe they're in the Imagination?" Roman volunteers. "Remus's side, of course. I- Remus wouldn't step foot in my domain." He shakes his head, embarrassment glossing his cheeks pink.

"Then that's what we shall do," Logan says, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Roman, do you know anything about Remus's domain? Do we need to bring anything in particular?"

"No," Roman says. "I- I don't think so. But-" He swallows. "We should go. If that nightmare caught them, too, then-"

Patton winces, his own dream actions looming in his head. His hands tremble. Tiny pinpoints of blood soak through the gauze. _My fault_ trembles in the air, locked behind his teeth and chained to the thready pulse of his heartbeat.

"We need to find them," Patton says as firmly as he can manage, which isn't very at all. "I- This is all my fault-"

"Hey, no," Virgil says, coming up to him. He looks oddly guilty. Patton doesn't understand why. "We'll find them, okay, pop star? It will be okay."

"I hope you're right," Patton whispers.

"This way," Roman mumbles. He looks very pale. "The way to Remus's side of the Imagination is through his room."

They follow, single file, into the disaster that is Remus's room. Virgil mutters something about dust again that Patton doesn't understand, but he sounds relieved.

The door's in Remus's closet. Compared to Roman's grandiose entryway, it feels quiet and unassuming. Just a plain steel door with an octopus carved into the front of it. Only when Patton looks closer can he see what looks like blood stains and pits in the metal where something corrosive has splashed up. He swallows hard.

"Here we go," Roman says, and pulls the door open.


	13. once upon a dream

_Why did I come, let me go home  
_ _I should be leavin'  
_ _Whatever happened, don't wanna know  
_ _What are these demons?_

He knows it's a dream.

Deceit knows it's a dream, but that doesn't make it any easier as he tiptoes down a long, echoing corridor, only the sound of his footsteps and the sound of his quiet sips of breath meeting his ears. From what Remus explained, the dream has many intersecting snarls of horror, but not everyone will experience the exact same thing. He has little hope that that means he won't have his mouth stitched shut. His heart races beneath his capelet, too much, too loud. He wonders where Remus is. For a moment, he considers shouting, but what if that only brings Patton there all the sooner?

In the end, he keeps his mouth shut.

In the end, it doesn't matter, because he stumbles on his next step, surroundings melting around him, until he's in his room, and there's a knock on the door. He twirls to face it, trying to maintain some level of composure, but he can feel all the blood drain from his face, see how his hands tremble when he stretches one out to open the door. Knowing what's going to happen only makes it so much worse.

On the other side of the door is Remus.

"Oh, thank god, I found you before-" Remus babbles. His face is shiny and pale and his eyes look like shiny quarters. "Please, Dee, come with me-"

"Is there any use?" Deceit asks dully.

"Yes," Remus says, forceful. One arm snicks out and grabs Deceit's, towing him back into the never-ending hallway. "It's _my_ nightmare, remember, _I_ kind of control it-"

"This was the big finale, Remus," Deceit croaks, reminding him. "I don't think we can avoid it."

"I'm gonna do my damnedest," Remus says with a snarl. He keeps storming down the hall, jerking Deceit along. "You don't deserve to be in this shit-"

"And you do?" Deceit asks breathlessly.

"No- Yes- I don't know," Remus admits. Spots of red burn high on his cheeks. "That's not the point."

"Yes, it is," Deceit insists. Remus huffs out an explosive breath.

"Shh," he says, jerking Deceit inside a broom closet. Deceit opens his mouth to admonish him, then stops, his lips automatically sealing themselves.

There's footsteps in the corridor.

There's footsteps and when Deceit arranges himself in order to peer out the tiniest of cracks with Remus, he can just make out the baby blue of Patton's polo shirt and the grey cardigan slung around his shoulders. Patton is humming an aimless tune, a happy, cheerful sound that doesn't at all match the horror Deceit knows he wants to dish out. In the dim light, he can just make out Remus's wide eyes.

"Now where, oh where, could they be?" Patton murmurs to himself. He stops dead in front of the broom closet, and Deceit has to stuff his hand over his mouth to control his breathing. _No, no, no, no,_ he thinks, his mind a panicked jumble. He can't catch his breath and his ears feel like they're full of static. Beside him, Remus stiffens, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

The door creaks open, framing Patton in all his mild-mannered glory. He smiles in delight, clapping his hands together.

"There you are!" He says cheerfully, giggling. "Why were you hiding in the closet, sillies? Thomas came out years ago!"

"Get the fuck away from him," Remus spits out, manifesting his morning star in a breath. Deceit stumbles back, the handle of a mop digging into his back. Patton tilts his head curiously to one side.

"No," Patton says, his smile never changing. "No, I don't think I will." He raises one hand, sparkling with baby blue light, and slams Remus against the wall of the closet like a doll. Remus grunts in pain, still raising his morning star.

"Do you always let your friends fight for you?" Patton inquires. "I'd expect nothing less from someone so _cowardly_."

"Do you always get _fucked_?" Remus snarls in frustration. His morning star bites into Patton's shoulder, staggering him back a few paces. Patton straightens up, his smile widening.

"You're very uncouth, Remus," he says, as if chiding a very small child. "I made the right decision all those years ago, separating you from Roman. The _good_ part of creativity. The _needed_ part of creativity. The-"

"You know, I believe Remus was right," Deceit interrupts, trembling with fury. "Get _fucked_ , you nightmare's hell spawn."

"Deceit!" Patton exclaims, delighted. He clasps his hands in front of him, ignoring when Remus smashes his shoulder again. "How _exciting_ for you to join us! Just the person I wanted to see!"

"I'm sure," Deceit says, now trembling with more than anger. Ice seems to have invaded his stomach, slithering up his spine. His hands don't feel like they belong to him anymore.

"Oh, yes," Patton breathes. His eyes sparkle with something Deceit can't quite place. "Very much so. You're a blot on Thomas's existence, and I'm going to make abso-fucking-lutely certain that he doesn't have to worry about you anymore."

He snaps his fingers and suddenly, a needle and thread shimmer into existence. Deceit very nearly throws up all over his shoes. Somehow, their plotting and planning seem light years away. This is- _this_ is real. This is far more real than he could have ever dreamed. The needle glints silver.

"Don't you fucking dare-" Remus begins furiously, but with another snap of his fingers, Remus is slammed against the wall again and left to crumple in a heap. Deceit swallows, his throat painfully dry, as the needle advances. Even knowing that this is a nightmare, that the _real_ Patton isn't standing in front of him, terror coils at the base of his spine.

"Patton?"

It's Roman's voice and Deceit could sob with relief, if it wasn't for the needle advancing ever closer.

"What are you doing?" Logan demands. Patton giggles.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He asks idly. "I'm taking care of the problem."

"By what?' Virgil asks shrilly. "By sewing his mouth shut? What the fuck kind of-"

"I would keep my mouth shut, _Anxiety_ ," Patton hisses coldly. Virgil immediately falls silent, a look of horrified disbelief on his face.

"Now," Patton continues, turning back to Deceit. His smile hasn't faltered. "Where were we? Oh yes." He leans closer, the needle slipping ever closer to Deceit's horrified face. "Shutting you up."

"I hate you," Deceit breathes, the words scarcely a whisper and yet more true than he ever imagined.

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," Patton says sweetly. The needle quivers in the air, then darts forward, jamming itself through Deceit's upper lip. A muffled scream erupts, no matter how hard he tries to contain it. He can feel blood trickling down his chin as the needle continues, pushing inexorably through his bottom lip and dragging razor-like thread behind. Past Patton's smiling face, he can see the others, and they all look like they're going to be sick.

The needle swivels up for another pass and Deceit moans in horror. He backpedals against the back of the closet, but the needle follows, shoving itself through his lips. It burns with each pass, more and more blood painting his chin and filling up his mouth. He has no choice but to swallow the thick metallic-tasting substance, and it unsettles his stomach. Nausea unfurls in his throat, but he doesn't dare throw up, or he'll suffocate.

"Patton, stop," Logan says suddenly. His face is paler than Deceit's ever seen it. "You need to stop, this is-"

"Doing what's right?" Patton finishes for him. "You know, I'm afraid I can't stop, Logan. This is what's necessary."

"No, it isn't," Roman bursts out. "I may not trust the bananconda, but _no one_ deserves this- this-" He gestures weakly.

"I'm afraid that's where you're wrong," Patton says coolly. He half-turns to face Roman. "Why don't you leave the moral quandaries to _me_ , Roman? We all know that you have...trouble with them."

"Patton-" Roman looks like he's been slapped. Deceit would laugh, if he wasn't in so much pain. He can feel tears falling down his cheeks, burning his eyes, but he feels disconnected from them. The needle stabs his lip again, bringing a fresh wave of agony.

"This isn't right, Morality," Virgil says, trembling all over, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Anxiety," Patton says. "Besides, if this proves to be such an efficacious solution, then perhaps..." He trails off delicately and Virgil rears back, understanding the threat for what it is.

"Deceit-" A voice, one that he can't identify anymore, not with the ringing in his ears. _I'm going to faint_ , he realizes, panic fluttering at the edges of his mind. Oh, god, if he faints, what happens to the needle? Each pass of the thread feels like a fresh slice of hell.

" _Deceit-_ "

"Wake up-"

"Oh, _please_ wake up-"

Deceit opens his eyes.


	14. remus's playground

_Guess if I gotta be stuck here  
_ _Then I might as well investigate  
_ _Secrets are unlocking  
_ _But, too bad, the exit ain't_

Virgil doesn't like this one bit. The shreds of the nightmare feel like they're clinging to him like a shroud, and no matter how much he _knows_ it wasn't _really_ Patton behind it all, distrust coils in the base of his spine. It's hard when he can see the gauze wrapped around Patton's knuckles, when they all stumbled in to see him punching the _shit_ out of an already broken mirror, when glass crunched under his shoes as they tried to get Patton to stop, to pull him out of his own nightmare.

But he can't stop seeing Patton like _that_. Can't stop seeing Patton's face screwed up in cold distaste. Can't stop seeing him later, controlling a needle and thread as it slowly stitches Deceit's mouth shut. Nausea surges, just thinking about it.

He feels like such an _asshole_. Patton literally punched his mirror to pieces, he was so distraught over what he did in the dream. And it's just a dream. _Just a dream,_ Virgil reminds himself, trying to breathe.

"Here we go," Roman says and yanks open the door to Remus's polluted little corner of the Imagination.

It's not at all what Virgil expected, he thinks aimlessly as he steps through the entryway. He expected something akin to Gravity Fall's Weirdmageddon. He has a feeling it can get worse than that, real fast.

But for now, it doesn't look that much different from Roman's side. The biggest difference is the dead grass, withered flowers, and spindly, thorn-infused branches of the trees. Grass crunches under his shoes as he looks around. Every sense feels like it's on fire.

"What now?" Logan asks, directing the question to Roman as he polishes his glasses on his shirt tails. Roman frowns, looking around.

"I'm not sure," he admits. "I've never- well, never tried to find Remus when he's in here. But uh, I feel like that way is the right way?" He points left.

"Sounds good to me," Patton says. "But um...I think we have a problem."

"What?" Virgil snaps, defensive. Patton cringes back, but points a shaking finger behind them.

Thomas slumps on the ground, mostly asleep, still in his pajamas.

"Where did he come from?!" Virgil yelps.

"If I had to guess, the nightmare we jointly experienced was so strong that it's pulled Thomas into the mind palace," Logan says, approaching the slumbering Thomas and peering into his half-closed eyes. "But I'm not sure why now, and not before. Or why he seems to still be asleep."

"Patton, don't-" Thomas whimpers, mostly under his breath. Patton jerks as if he's been struck.

"Well, we can't just leave him here," Virgil says, hunching his shoulders. "Not in _Remus's_ side of the Imagination."

"In any part of the Imagination," Roman corrects him. "He's- he's like the ultimate creator, considering. Unsupervised, it would be a disaster."

"How are we gonna take him with us then?" Virgil asks, staring at the defenseless man curled up on the ground. Occasionally, he jerks and twitches, in the throes of the bad dream. Virgil isn't sure why they woke up and he didn't.

"Someone will have to carry him, I suppose," Logan says.

"I'll do it," Roman says, suiting action to words and slinging Thomas over his shoulder. Thomas immediately clings to his shirt with one loose fist, his mouth slack and eyelids fluttering.

"Uh, I guess that works then," Virgil mutters. "Can we uh, get on with it? I don't like how the trees have- have they _moved_?"

"Yes," Patton squeaks. He wraps his arms around himself, wincing when he moves his injured hand too much. The trees crowd unpleasantly closer, skeletal branches rattling in a thin wind, just beginning to pick up.

"Right, let's go," Roman says quickly, hefting Thomas up in his arms. "I'll take that as a sign we aren't wanted here."

"That way?" Logan clarifies, pointing the direction Roman had previously indicated. Roman nods.

They end up straggling out in a line, Roman and Logan at the front with Thomas, then Patton, then Virgil to pick up the rear. He keeps jumping at every unusual sound, mouth frozen in a perpetual grimace. Every crunch of the grass beneath his sneakers is magnified, like they're gingerly stepping through a battleground of bones. Knowing Remus, the possibility is not so far-fetched.

"Do you see any sign of Remus?" Logan asks, peering around. Virgil shrugs.

"No," Roman answers. The sound of Thomas's soft snores drift Virgil's way. "Nor Deceit."

"I hope they aren't still trapped in the nightmare," Patton mumbles. He pales at the thought. "I don't- I never wanted-"

"We know, pop star," Virgil interrupts, not unkindly. "We'll uh, we'll find them. It's okay."

They slog onward, Virgil keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the unholy duo. Their last argument pricks his conscience uncomfortably. He never meant-

Well. He might not _like_ them exactly (although is that even true anymore?), but they don't deserve _that_. _No one_ deserves that. Deceit might be a slimy snake and Remus a gross trash rat, but Deceit doesn't deserve to have his mouth stitched shut. The thought makes nausea slosh in his stomach and venture up his throat.

"Nothing," Roman says in frustration. "I- Wait, what's that?"

An enormous, craggy boulder blocks their way, rolled over what looks like an indent in the hill.

Poisonous green light emanates from the crevice behind it.

"I'd say that's our destination," Logan observes. "It's the only noticeable change in the environment, and the light is...interesting."

"But how do we get past it?" Roman demands.

Swallowing, Virgil has no answer.


	15. rescue

_I was not always a monster  
_ _Once I was somebody's muse  
_ _Innovation made us stronger  
_ _But that power was abused_

When Remus hears voices past the boulder trapping them, relief gushes through him like blood flowing from an artery. He managed to break free of the syrupy clutches of the nightmare, being its creator, but no matter what he tries, he can't wake Deceit up. He even slapped him, and all that did was stir free a choked whimper. Sweat stands out in large, shiny droplets on the human side of Deceit's face.

"Hello?" Remus calls. The acid green light illuminating the cave brightens. "Hello?!" His voice is thin and sharp with worry.

"Remus?" It's Logan's voice, and he sags in further relief. "Is that you?"

"Yes!" He shouts back. "I can't wake Dee Dee up, I-"

"Do you know where this boulder came from?" Logan asks calmly. Remus marvels at the stillness of his voice, as if he is merely out on a pleasure jaunt, not a presumed rescue mission. It makes his palms itch.

"No," Remus says. "It just- it just appeared." His ears burn at the uselessness of his response.

"Hmm," Logan says, making a thoughtful noise. "Thank you, Remus. Don't worry. We'll find a way to get you both out of there."

"If someone takes Thomas, I can give it a go," his brother says, on the other side of the rock. Alarm spikes through Remus at his words.

"Thomas?" He asks, urgent. "Is Thomas with you?"

"Yes," Logan answers. "Why? Is there an issue?"

" _Yes_ ," Remus insists, his hands fisting in his hair. 'Thomas shouldn't be here, in the Imagination- especially not my side-"

"Why?" Logan asks. "Please explain, Remus."

"He's the creator," Remus answers. "He- that's a bad time, like brains exploding like oatmeal bad-"

"Really, Remus?" Roman splutters, grossed out. "I know it isn't _ideal_ , him being here, but he's asleep! I couldn't just _leave_ him!"

"He's asleep?!" Remus yelps. He spins around, eyes seeking out Deceit, and his eyes widen in horror.

Nearly transparent in the green-hued light, a silvery needle glints in mid air.

"Wake him up," Remus pants through the crack. "Wake him up, wake him up, oh, _please_ , wake him up-"

"Okay, okay," Roman says, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"It's- You have to- The _needle-_ " Somehow his disjointed proclamations get through to the others, and he hears the quiet thud of Thomas hitting the ground.

"Thomas," Logan says firmly. "Wake up. You need to wake up now."

"Mmm," Thomas mumbles. Remus's blood ices when he hears Thomas's voice. _This is bad_ , he thinks, frantic. He darts a glance over his shoulder. The needle is still there, hovering ever closer to the sleeping Deceit's mouth.

"Wake up," he shouts through the crack. He can hear Logan shaking Thomas, can picture his head lolling on his shoulders, hands scrunching in the gravel.

Finally- _finally-_ he hears Thomas's voice, groggy with sleep.

"Where- where am I?"

Another glance over his shoulder. The needle is gone, evaporated like it never existed. Deceit still twists and turns, eyes screwed tightly shut in a nightmare of Remus's own making. Guilt floods him like a tide of sewage.

"You are in the Imagination, on Remus's side," he can hear Logan explaining. "We are here to rescue Deceit and Remus from a particularly bad nightmare."

"Deceit's still asleep," Remus whispers. He can't stop casting anxious glances Deceit's way. The needle's gone, but what if it comes back? What if Thomas _wants_ it to come back? What if it sews up Deceit's mouth, snip snip snip, and then it heads for _Remus's_ mouth? What if Thomas wants to stitch _him_ up, like a Raggedy Andy doll, bursting with maggots and writhing cockroaches and-

"Remus, breathe," Logan orders through the crack. With a start, Remus realizes he's hyperventilating, loud enough for the others to hear. "We will get this rock away, all right? I promise."

"Maybe Roman can help there," Virgil suggests, hesitant. "Or uh, Thomas actually. What if Thomas just pretended the rock wasn't there?"

"It's worth a shot," Roman admits. "You're the boss, Thomas. What do you say? Shall we get rid of this dastardly boulder and rescue a slimy snake from the depths of slumber?"

"Sure?" Thomas says. "But erm..." He trails off. "I don't know how," he confesses. "I'm sorry, I just- how do you pretend something's not there?"

"If it wasn't there, you'd see me," Remus blurts out. "I look like a disaster in tinsel. You'd see a TV and a couch and you'd see Deceit lying on the couch, still asleep and trapped in that stupid, stupid nightmare-"

"Okay, okay," Thomas breaks into the onslaught of words. "I- I think maybe I got it now."

"You can do it," Patton softly encourages. Remus flinches without meaning to, glad the boulder is still in the way. It's dumb, he's the one who created the nightmare in the first place, he _knows_ that Patton's never done any of the things that happened in the dream-

But at the same time, the thought that he _could_ sends icicles down his spine. After all, Thomas is already hurtling down the track of so-called selflessness, leaving such things as schedules and self care behind. If Patton's in charge, what _is_ he capable of? Remus is intimately familiar with darkness. But is he- could Patton-

Before he can twist himself into a devastating mental loop further, there's an enormous crack ringing through the air, and when he opens his eyes, he stares directly into the shocked brown eyes of his brother.

He bursts into tears.

"Hey-" Roman looks uncomfortable, but he steps forward anyway, putting his arms around Remus and awkwardly patting his back. "It's okay-"

"No, it's not," Remus bursts. "Dee Dee is trapped in a stupid nightmare and I can't wake him up and what if-" But he can't articulate it, not now, and thankfully, Roman doesn't seem to feel like pressing him.

"Thomas," Logan says. "Why don't you try waking Deceit up?"

"Me?" Thomas asks dubiously. "But I-"

"Like Remus explained while you were asleep, you are the creator," Logan points out. "You are in your own imagination. You made a boulder disappear. I believe that you can wake Deceit up, as well."

"Well, uh," Thomas says, scratching the back of his neck and shrugging helplessly. "I guess I can give it a shot?"

"That's all anyone can ask," Patton says.

Thomas looms over the uneasily sleeping figure of Deceit. Remus fights the urge to yank him back. Deceit needs him now. He can't even imagine- no, really, that's the problem. He _can_ imagine what the dream is putting Deceit through, because he put it all in there. It's all his fault, and the knowledge sits curdled in the pit of his stomach, like a lake of rancid milk.

"Maybe if we all helped," Logan suggests, and Remus finds himself caught up in the press of bodies. He grips one of Deceit's hands in his, enveloping the cool clamminess of Deceit's skin with the slightly sticky warmth of his own. His heart feels like it's going to thump right out of his chest and splatter on the floor.

"Deceit," Thomas says, his voice shaking a little.

" _Deceit_ ," Remus echos, nearly under his breath. Logan looks at him, his eyes softening as he takes in the raw panic stamped on Remus's face.

"Wake up," Thomas says firmly. Deceit doesn't stir for several heart-stopping seconds.

"Oh _please_ wake up," Remus pleads, his fingers tightening around Deceit's hand.

Deceit squeezes back. Remus pauses, heart in mouth almost literally, as Deceit's eyes groggily open.

"What-" He scans the cave around him, his eyes round with surprise. "What happened?"

Remus could cry in relief.


	16. my name is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so much fun to write! and i do have a sequel in the works, too.

_Creators betrayed us_   
_We've got it on tape_   
_We've written your fate_   
_And it can't be erased_

Deceit slips one clammy hand free, fingers clumsily petting at his mouth. His unencumbered mouth. There isn't a stitch to be felt and the relief that floods through him at this realization is profound. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes and Remus buries him in a hug, babbling near silent apologies into the sweaty strands of his hair.

"It's okay," he mumbles finally. Remus shakes his head, his eyes wet, and Deceit knows they need to have a talk soon, all by themselves.

"Thomas?" Deceit asks in surprise, looking past Remus. "You- you're here?"

"Yeah," Thomas says, shuffling his feet. "I uh, I don't know how I got here. I just woke up in Remus's imagination. But uh- I'm glad you're awake." Red tints Thomas's cheeks.

"Thank you," Deceit says, taking the olive branch for what it is. Patton peeks around Thomas's shoulder and Deceit has to fight himself not to flinch. It wasn't him, he reminds himself, but it's hard to cling to when all he can remember is the needle jabbing its way through his mouth, while Patton watches, baby blue eyes bright and hard with malice.

"Deceit-" Patton says, his voice choked. "I'm so sorry-"

"You aren't the one who did it, not really," Deceit says. It's hard to force out the words. Relief dampens Patton's eyes, and Deceit shifts uncomfortably. "I'd like to get out of here, please-" He can't help but cast an anxious glance at the now empty cave entrance.

"Oh!" Remus exclaims. "Yes- Thomas shouldn't be here anymore, it's not good to be in your own rotten imagination-" He helps Deceit to his feet, almost tenderly. The brush of his arm around Deceit's shoulders makes him want to cry.

"Living room?" Logan questions. "I believe that a debriefing of sorts would be useful after the night's events."

"Living room," the others agree. Deceit doesn't say anything, fiddling with one of his gloves. Shame is a palpable thing. When he planned out the nightmare with Remus yesterday- god, was it only yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago- it had seemed...not harmless. But useful. He's no longer certain it was necessary to fulfill its purpose. Patton's still shaking like a wild leaf, and Virgil looks haunted. It had seemed fitting, including his ejection from the group (it's still all he can picture Patton doing if pushed far enough), but was it too far? Was everything too far?  
They sink down and out of the imagination, the last cloying strands of the nightmare fleeing as Deceit and Remus unsteadily rise up in Thomas's apartment, Deceit stumbling when he makes it, his breath see sawing out of his lungs.

"You good, Dee Dee?" Remus asks, his voice thick with anxiety. Deceit nods, settling his hat firmer on his head. He's fine.

He can't make himself talk. He knows the stitches aren't there, knows there's not a needle in sight, but he can't make himself talk.

"So uh-" Thomas shifts from foot to foot. "I had the worst nightmare of my life," he says baldly. "Did you- did all of you?"

"Yes," Roman says fervently.

"I'm sorry," Patton whispers.

"Padre, it was a nightmare," Roman says. "You wouldn't do any of that in real life....would you?"

"Never," Patton says, anguished. "I- I can't even imagine-" He trails off, fingers flexing under the bandages. Tiny pinpoints of red blossom across the white spread of gauze.

"Then it was just a really shitty dream," Virgil states. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

"So we all dreamed the same thing?" Thomas attempts to clarify.

"I believe so," Logan says, adjusting his glasses. "I believe that we all had our own spin on said dream, but the same basic events still occurred."

"Deceit-" Thomas turns to him, and Deceit's surprised to see tears standing in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, your mouth, I just-"

"It is fine now," Deceit manages to say, over-enunciating each word. His lips burn with phantom pain as he stretches them into a ghastly smile. "It was just a dream."

"But it wasn't just a dream," Roman insists, the words gushing out of him. "Nothing that- that bad could ever be just a dream."

"I'm sorry," Patton blurts out again. "Not just- not just because of the dream. I'm sorry about our argument, Remus. I was- I was wrong. So, so wrong."

"Argument?" Thomas asks, eyes flitting between Patton and Remus. "What argument?"

"I told Remus he was- that he was bad," Patton admits in a shameful mumble. "That he and Deceit weren't important. I was wrong. That- that dream, I- I never want to be like that."

"You are important," Thomas says slowly. Deceit tries to squash the persistent sparkle of hope. "I was a wreck in that dream. No- no self preservation whatsoever. All I could do was what Patton wanted. I love ya, bud, but I- I need to listen to everyone else, too."

"I want you to," Patton says fervently, nodding.

"So what happens now?" Logan asks. "It doesn't sound like people want to return to the way that things were prior to said dream."

"Thomas, it's- it's up to you, but-" Patton hesitates, chewing on the corner of his mouth.

"I want to accept Deceit and Remus," Thomas says in a rush. "I don't know how if that's how it works, but-"

"I don't see why it wouldn't," Logan says.

"You're the boss, Thomas," Virgil chimes in. He looks pale, but surprisingly composed.

"Not- not Deceit then," he speaks up. His heart is lodged in his throat. Virgil and Remus glance his way in shock, Remus's gaze tinged with admiration. Remus snakes one hand out, squeezing Deceit's.

"What?" Thomas looks confused. It makes Deceit want to laugh. He might, if he didn't hurt so much.

"My name," he says. Thomas's eyes widen in comprehension.

"Oh, you don't have to," Thomas hastens to say.

"I know," Deceit says. "I- I want to. It feels...right."

He still hesitates until Remus sidles closer, knocking shoulders together. Then he peels off one glove, lifting his hand.

"My name is Janus," he says carefully. Roman stifles a laugh and a prickle of hurt heats up Janus's face.

"Sorry," Roman hastily apologizes, wincing at the angry look on Thomas's face. "Sorry, I didn't mean it."

"I think it's an amazing name," Thomas says. "It might be a little- a little unusual, but it fits you. Thank you for telling me...Janus." Janus exhales, a little shakily, and manages a real smile, no matter how much it tugs at his mouth.

"Thank you," he says. For a moment, the thought of telling the others his and Remus's role in the joint nightmare they suffered flits across his mind, then he dismisses it.

That is definitely a story for another time.


End file.
